


The End of All Things

by DaisyAnneWinchester



Series: Picture Prompts [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Death, F/M, M/M, Multi, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pictures, Tumblr Prompt, Yenn is powerful, and they love her, but happy ending, cuz fuck yeah, dont worry, fair warning, hahah, i love torturing you all, i will comfort you, picture prompt, she loves her two idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyAnneWinchester/pseuds/DaisyAnneWinchester
Summary: She steps into the cool air of the building and the crooning grows in volume. The words are mournful, and the lilt is familiar, she cocks her head as she follows it.“Jaskier?” She calls. “Is that you?”The singing stops for a moment, echoing of the empty stone walls.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Series: Picture Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1659043
Comments: 6
Kudos: 197





	The End of All Things

**Author's Note:**

> :.( SADNESS

It’s a bright sunny day as Yennefer strolls down the moss and algae covered path. She sighs and lets the humid air leave her lungs, hiking the skirt of her dress up to stay out of the moss. As she strolls, singing reaches her ears, soulful and mourning. She follows the sound around the bend of moss covered trees and stops at the edge of a bridge. Violet eyes peer over the edge and down into the dark waters below. The building towers above her, moss covered and weathered. The singing seems to weave in and out of the windows, carrying into the daylight on humid air. Cliffs climb even further than the tower, allowing little light and loads of shadows to be cast over the scene. It is sinister and eerie, but she doesn’t deter, stepping out on the bridge without fear. It is the only bridge that allows access to the building, the rest surrounded by what she guesses is a hundred-foot drop. It creaks under her but holds without fail all the way across.

She steps into the cool air of the building and the crooning grows in volume. The words are mournful, and the lilt is familiar, she cocks her head as she follows it.

“Jaskier?” She calls. “Is that you?”

The singing stops for a moment, echoing of the empty stone walls. The rooms are barren, letting in a little musty light through the arched windows. Her skirt stirs up dust as she walks. She peers into room after room, trying to find the voice. The voice doesn’t respond but she doesn’t need him to, she knows it’s Jaskier. What’s confusing is why he’s here, in an abandoned building, supposedly alone, singing.

“Bard, this place is disgusting. What in Melitele’s hell are you doing here?” She stares around the empty cobwebbed rooms, lip curled in distaste.

“Waiting” is the resonating one-word response she receives. Yennefer still cannot pinpoint where he is. She extends her hand and places it on the dusty wall, willing the walls to speak to her. They tell her no one is here. Yennefer is more confused than ever.

She climbs up the stairs, talking to Jaskier all the while. “What are you waiting for? You alright?”

“I’m alright, Yennefer.” His voice is serene, carrying none of the snark he usually has.

“Where is Geralt then?” She peeks into rooms as she talks. As she goes down the hall a stench fills her nose. She cringes. It smells like dead animal.

“Gone.” Simple. Strange. Yennefer is sufficiently worried.

“What do you-,” her words get stuck in her throat as she enters one of the rooms, violet eyes widening as they settle on the figure in the windowsill. It’s certainly Jaskier.

The bard stands at the window, staring out of it with his back to the witch. He’s wearing a light green doublet left open to reveal a white chemise tucked into green high waisted trousers with dark green detailing around the hem and the poufs of his shoulders. From behind she can see a pool of red staining the seat of his trousers and down the inside of his legs. He turns to her and smiles, grim and forlorn. Her eyes widen as she looks up his body from his feet to his face. He’s covered in blood, it oozes from every hole in his body, dried in his ears, under his nose, out the corners of his mouth. He’s cried blood, tear tracks pronounced on his cheeks. There’s droplets of blood dotting his forehead where sweat would usually gather. His skin is pale and gaunt, round cheeks hollowed out. Horror shivers through her and she starts toward the bard.

“ _Jaskier!_ What happened?!”

She reaches for him but when she goes to grab his shoulder, her hand passes straight through his form. He shimmers. If she concentrates hard enough, she can faintly see the window ledge and the cliff face beyond through his translucent body. She reels back and stares at him, ice cold terror a foreign presence in her body.

“Jaskier,” she whispers like the slightest breath will blow him away. “What…” She trails off, unsure where to even begin.

He smiles at her fondly, seemingly unperturbed by all the blood. “I’m glad you’re here Yenn. Geralt already left a few… well. I can’t remember if its been weeks or months. I’m ready to follow him but I just can’t seem to leave.” He laughs to himself, shaking his head and turning back to the window.

“What… what happened, Jaskier?”

“We were on a hunt. A banshee. Geralt took the brunt of it. He’s in the other room.” The bard waves his hand in the direction of the room he is talking about. A few steps and Yennefer can see through the doorway. All she sees is red. She whips around, turning her back to what she now knows is the source of the smell. Her heart is heavy with dread, it races quicker than ever. It weighs her to the floor, and she melts to the ground. Jaskier sits crisscross next to her, seeming eerily unfazed.

“He was protecting me, told me to stay away. I told him it wouldn’t be a big deal if I came along, it was just a banshee. But this one… this one was different. She was so loud. So awful. It was so painful. I’ve never felt anything like it. It was like I was melting from the inside. And Geralt… he just… she screamed and he,” He made a hand gesture of something exploding, “everything. Everywhere. There was nothing left for me to hold. No pendant or sword or any bit of skin or hair.”

Hot tears run down her face, her whole frame shivers as she cries.

“And now he’s waiting for me and I couldn’t go to him.”

Yennefer looks up at his thought blurry violet eyes, “Why not?”

Jaskier gestures to the corner of the room. She looks over to see his lute, broken and streaked with blood, the two pieces only connected by the strings. Jaskier’s empty corpse lies collapsed next to it. His hands are stretched out as if reaching for the lute with his last efforts, blank eyes staring lifelessly ahead.

“I’m tied to it. Some form of elven magic, I’m guessing. I tried to destroy it as I was dying but I perished before I could finish. But you’re here now. You can send me on. Please Yennefer. I can feel him waiting for me.” Jaskier rises to his knees, pleading.

Yennefer bows her head. Her hair falls in a curtain around her face, allowing her the private reprieve to wipe the tears from her face and gather herself together. She sniffs and stands up crossing to the lute. She gathers the shards in her hands and, with one final smile to Jaskier, whispers her curse.

Nothing happens.

She frowns, staring down at the instrument in surprise. Focusing her powers, she studies the wood, finding strong magic surrounding the elven wood. Realization dawns with cold dread. She turns to Jaskier.

“This is elder magic, Jaskier. Your lute is protected by very old magic. It cannot be destroyed with common sorcery or by setting it on fire.”

His face falls but he nods grimly.

“It’s alright Yenn. Thank you for trying.”

“There,” she takes a deep breath, “There is something. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t have the proper conduits and it’s supposed to be performed by a group of elders.”

Jaskier gets up and stands in front of her, grasping her shoulders. She startles. It’s like cold air gripping her skin and she shivers involuntarily.

“Please Yennefer. Please try.” His voice is raw with emotion, a lover’s misery.

She nods, “Of course.” She never wants to deny the bard anything.

Jaskier presses cold faint lips to her cheek and steps back.

She lets her breath slowly slip from her lungs, trying to loosen the muscles in her body. She holds the lute out in front of her and begins her chant. Nothing happens at first and she slows down, about to stop.

Don’t stop.” Jaskier breathes.

She looks up at him and he’s smiling. Color is returning to his face.

She refocuses and channels more power into her words. The wood warms in her hands, burning fiery hot. It sears her palms, but she grits her teeth to the pain and continues. She starts to tremble. The air around her electrifies, the hairs on her arms stand on end and every nerve sings. A glance in Jaskier’s direction shows him healthier, blood drawing back into his skin, face not as gaunt, soft round cheeks making their return with rosy vigor. Instead of looking elated he looks terrified, eyes fixated on the cracks in the concrete under her feet. He looks up to meet her eyes and she smiles at him reassuringly.

Blood drips from her nose. She is sweaty with exertion. It is no longer she that is trembling but the very building around them, stone rains down from the ceiling. The strings burn and melt, dripping to the floor. Yennefer is exhausted. She sways on her feet, eyes blinking long and slow.

Cool, calloused fingertips grip her cheeks and lips press to hers. She kisses Jaskier and pushes out one final surge of power with a scream to the heavens. Stone slabs crack under her. She stumbles but strong muscular arms loop around her waist, pulling her free of the falling floor. She watches her body fall with the crumbling building, twisting and cracking off slabs as it falls. Great plumes of dust rise up to greet them.

She tears her eyes away when Jaskier crows in delight, reaching over her shoulder to pull Geralt down into a kiss. Geralt kisses him like a starved man and pulls away, smiling down at them both. He is scar free and youthful; any signs of aging and stress gone. His eyes are blue with flecks of brown, shining with happiness. His hair is tied back in his signature style, dark brown strands brushing his shoulders. Yennefer’s hands reach up to feel her face and the hump of her shoulder. She is a mix of emotions: regret, shame, fear, dread. Before she can, two sets of hands, one thin and gentle, the other firm and strong, guide hers away. Kind blue eyes peer into scared violet ones.

Jaskier smiles sweetly, nothing but love and adoration in his gaze, “Beautiful, my darling.”

“Stunning,” Geralt rumbles in her ear, still hugging her from behind. He kisses her jawline. She smiles and her worries diminish. For the first time in her life, she finds that that is something that she could believe eventually. With time. She is beautiful.

Geralt offers her his arm and she links them together, reaching out for Jaskier’s hand. Lute calloused fingers link with hers. In between them, she is invincible, prepared to conquer whatever trial the afterlife may throw at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed that bit of pain.   
> Hello again Lovelies! I'm back! I saw a tumblr post of aesthetically pleasing pictures so now i must write a fic for each one or my one brain cell will throw a temper tantrum. So enjoy! Come say hi on Tumblr! It's the same tag.  
> Comments and kudos are so very appreciated, my loves!!!


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